


A Complicated Relationship

by as_with_a_sunbeam



Series: Hamilton & Madison [2]
Category: 19th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: 1836, Gen, Montpelier, Old Age, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 02:58:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10402245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/as_with_a_sunbeam/pseuds/as_with_a_sunbeam
Summary: When Dolley announces she has invited a surprise guest to dinner, James starts reminiscing about an old friendship. The more he thinks about it, the more he begins to believe that old age is some kind of punishment.





	

“I’ve invited a guest for dinner,” Dolley tells James as he flips through the paper.

He nods at her. She often invites people, the news isn’t particularly interesting.

“An old acquaintance of yours, I believe,” she adds when she sees that she failed to gain his interest.

He does look up at that. Most of his old friends had long since died. She hadn’t said friend, either, she’d said acquaintance. Dolley’s polite way of saying political opponent, most likely. Most of those had also died. He stares at her with a furrowed brow until she takes pity.

“Mrs. Hamilton is on the board to raise money for the Washington monument. A lovely woman. We’ve been talking a great deal. Odd that I did not meet her earlier, is it not?”

James continues staring at his wife. She meets his eye. She knows damn well why she didn’t meet Mrs. Hamilton earlier. He and Hamilton had long ceased being on friendly terms by the time James met and wed Dolley.

 

Although…there had been a conversation. Hamilton had been slumped in a chair outside Washington’s office, waiting to see the President. James had been forced to join him in the wait. He’d prepared himself for strenuous debate or stony silence as he settled down across from his erstwhile friend turned enemy.

Instead, he’d been met with Hamilton’s soft smile and an inquiry about his health that sounded sincere and concerned. For all his history with poor health, it was Hamilton who looked exhausted and ill as he sat across from him. The same as he’d looked ever since the fall of 1793, when he’d contracted yellow fever. Perhaps it was guilt for the callous comments he’d made about Hamilton during that time (he hadn’t realized that Hamilton was in real danger, not until months later when the Treasury Secretary appeared at a cabinet meeting looking fifteen pounds lighter and two shades paler than before), but he’d allowed himself to be drawn into small talk.

The news of his impending nuptials caused Hamilton to sit forward in his chair.

“That’s amazing,” Hamilton had responded, his gaze earnest. “To whom?”

He’d answered.

“You? Married?” Hamilton shook his head as if in disbelief, a grin spreading across his face.

He’d nodded and tried not to be offended.

“How could you not tell me this?”

He would have imagined it was easy for Hamilton to understand why he hadn’t been issued an invitation. Apparently he was wrong.

“I mean, if I was getting married, I’d tell you. Well, I did get married. I didn’t know you at the time. But if I had, I’d have told you,” Hamilton insisted. His eyes had been alight, his handsome face glowing with warmth. It was those moments James had the hardest time not being sucked back into Hamilton’s gravity.

He opened his mouth to reply, but Hamilton beat him to it. “I have to meet this woman. She must be astounding.”

He’d almost issued a dinner invitation. Almost invited Hamilton to the wedding. Lord knows, if he’d been there another five minutes, he’d likely have offered to name his first born son Alexander. Hamilton had a way of making people fall helplessly in love with him when it suited his purposes. Thankfully, he’d been saved the disgrace of falling back in with the Federalists when the door to the President’s office opened.

 

“Mrs. Hamilton will be here at three o’clock,” Dolley informs him, jolting him from his reminiscence.

He nods again, stunned. Dinner with Eliza. He has never held any ill will towards her. She was always warm and kind, not unlike her husband when he’d put his mind to it. He hasn’t spoken to her in decades—not since she wrote to him asking him to support a Congressional reinstatement of Hamilton’s military back-pay. (He had agreed, of course. How could one refuse a grieving widow and orphaned children the military pay that had been selflessly surrendered in service to the country?) He wonders if she’s angry with him. He wonders if she’s given him any thought at all.

He locks himself in his study at eleven that morning, pouring over old correspondence. Trying to put his papers in order for when death finally claims him. He’s now outlived most of his contemporaries. Even Monroe had passed two years earlier. He’s not sure it’s a blessing, old age. Last he’d heard, only Burr still lived, working in New York as a lawyer.

Hamilton would have still been alive, he thinks suddenly. Six years his junior and generally hardy, Hamilton had all the ingredients for a long life. John and Thomas had patched things up in their later years. He wonders if Hamilton would have deigned to correspond with him. Probably. Hamilton could be frustratingly wonderful.

His chest tightens at the thought. He thinks of Burr again, and feels real anger for the first time. Anger and grief.

Without really thinking about it, he finds himself flipping to his correspondence from the summer of 1804. It takes several minutes to find anything even mentioning Hamilton. The only letter he turns up is from himself, pondering the political benefits of the duel. He feels sick suddenly. Had that truly been his reaction?

Hamilton would have cared if he’d died, he’s sure of it. He’d have written a sympathy note to Dolley, maybe even shed a tear. Hamilton had always been remarkably sentimental. James had spent his time analyzing why Hamilton’s death was a political boost to their party. He’d never even written Eliza, he realizes with a jolt. He should have. It would have been the decent thing, the gentlemanly thing to do.

Thomas and John had always heaped more abuse on Hamilton. James would join in at times, but mostly he was a silent spectator. He thinks now that it was worse, what he did. Thomas and John could be cruel and taunting, but neither of them had ever claimed Hamilton as a friend. Hamilton had known what he was getting with those two.

James couldn’t imagine Hamilton sitting silently if people around him had started maligning James’s character.

Perhaps old age really is a punishment.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I was reading about Adams and Jefferson's relationship in their retirement recently, and the thought struck me that Hamilton and Madison never got to have that moment of reconciliation. I wondered if Madison ever thought about that. And thus this fic was born....
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Feedback very much appreciated!


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